Interlude: The Road to Solace
by enigma939
Summary: Following the death of his treacherous lover Vesper Lynd, James Bond prepares for his confrontation with Mr. White and his nebulous organization. Set between the last two scenes of Casino Royale.
1. Chapter 1: Homecoming

**Interlude: The Road to Solace**

**Chapter 1: Homecoming**

**A/N: **While _Quantum of Solace _picks up literally about an hour after the end of _Casino Royale_, there was still a significant gap between Vesper's death in Venice and Bond's confrontation with Mr. White...which this fic aims to cover.

_London, England_

As soon as James Bond disembarked from his chartered flight and cleared Immigration, he briskly walked out of Heathrow and hailed a taxi. A little less than an hour later he was at the door of his flat in Chelsea.

He stepped inside and was pleased to find everything neat and tidier...tidier by far than when he'd left it. May, his 'Scottish treasure' as he liked to think of her, had certainly done a thorough job keeping the home fires burning while he had been abroad, lighting _other _fires...

Hastily making himself a cup of Instant Coffee, Bond down on a chair in his small balcony looking out at the Chelsea skyline contemplatively.

How long had it been since he'd last been here? Since he'd last seen all this? A month? Two months? More? He vaguely remembered the brief stopover after that mess in Madagascar, just before he'd broken into M's house. To think of everything that had happened since then! The Bahamas, Alec Dimitrios and his wife Solange, the incident at the Miami airport; and then his titanic clash with Le Chiffre at the poker tables of Casino Royale, the crawling of the skin as the ill-fated gambler had sadistically tortured him, the weeks of recover and Vesper...

_Vesper_.

Bond averted his thoughts from the past immediately. He did _not _want to think about her. About what had happened next. But try all he could, he simply was unable to forget her. Forget the sweetness of her smile, or the warmth of her body...or the sting of her betrayal...

_Once you've tasted it...that's all you want to drink_, he bitterly remembered his own words.

Well, he'd drunk it alright, he thought sourly, and now he was poisoned. Dying a slow death from inside out...

He finished his coffee and carefully settled his cup down on the coffee-table nearby. A quick glance at his Omega told him he had exactly an hour and a half before his meeting with M and the man from the Treasury, Vesper's former boss. Enough time to have a wash, a change of clothes, and drive down to MI6 headquarters.

He still had a job to do, he reflected, as he was weaving through the streets in his Bentley. A small consolation, but the only one he had. Not very long ago, he'd wanted to quit...to leave with what little soul he could salvage, in his own words. But that door had been slammed shut in his face.

Now there was only what had been there in the beginning. His duty. Perhaps there was a small measure of solace to be gained from that...


	2. Chapter 2: Post Mortem

**Interlude: The Road to Solace**

**Chapter 2: Post-Mortem**

"Mr. Terrence Hodge. James Bond", M said, performing the introductions.

"Mr. Hodge", Bond said politely but briskly, giving the older man a perfunctory handshake. Mr. Hodge, senior Treasury supervisor, looked every bit as shaken as a man whose late employee had recently been exposed as a traitor could be expected to be.

For around fifteen minutes, Bond gave a detailed report to both M and Hodge about what had transpired in Venice; starting from the moment when he'd seen Vesper's anxious face in the gondola as she stared at a man in the street, to the moment he'd discovered the incriminating text message in her cellphone, up until the moment of her suicide, and his discovery that the briefcase full of his money, the _Treasury's _money, had been stolen.

"150 million dollars", Hodge said mournfully, almost as though it had been stolen from his own pocket. "Good God!"

"We do have a lead on the member of the organization who stole the briefcase, Mr. Hodge", said M.

"Who?" Hodge asked.

"That intelligence must remain confidential for the time being, Mr. Hodge. I'm sure you understand", said M calmly but firmly.

"Yes, yes of course", said Hodge.

"Rest assured, if all goes well, the money will be returned to the Treasury before long", said M.

A few minutes later, the Treasury man had left, and Bond and M were alone.

Bond realised that this was the first time he'd been alone with her, in person, since their meeting in the Bahamas, the day she'd first assigned him to the Casino Royale mission.

"How are you?" M asked, in a more personal tone.

"I'm fine", he said briskly.

M silently stared at him for a few minutes. She looked like she was on the verge of saying something more, but then seemed to think better of it. Bond could guess she had been about to offer additional condolences about Vesper.

"How'd the post-mortem go?" he asked, deciding to end the tense silence. He was referring to the post-operational analysis of the Casino Royale mission, and its aftermath.

"Officially, we're classifying it as a _failure_", said M. "No reflection on _you _of course, 007", he added to reassure him. "Our analysts were most impressed with your skill at the poker tables. But the primary objective of the operation was to gather valuable intelligence about this unknown organization by taking Le Chiffre into custody. But Le Chiffre ended up dead, and what's worse, we ended up with a mole".

"We do have a lead though. This 'Mr. White'" said Bond.

"We're checking up on him", said M. "Retired businessman and investment banker. Respectable on the surface".

"They always are", Bond said cynically.

"True enough", said M. "Further investigation reveals that there is a possibility he has been involved in negotiating financial arrangements for terrorist and revolutionary groups in Latin America and Africa".

"He might have been the intermediary between Le Chiffre and his clients", said Bond.

"That's the working hypothesis. We believe White may have been the one to kill Le Chiffre himself. Immigration records show he was in Montenegro the night you were abducted. He was also spotted in Venice the day of the theft", said M.

"Taking care of the rotten apple", muttered Bond.

"We believe this Mr. White may be a high-ranking member of this unknown organization. If we get our hands on him, we may well have everything we need", said M.

They both remained silent for a few more minutes. M offered Bond a drink and he accepted.

"When do I go?" Bond asked, simply.

M sighed. "James", she said. "Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?"

"Of course. I want to see this through", he said plainly.

M hesitated before continuing, "Our analysts have put forward a suggestion to the effect that I assign this case to another 00. Temporarily take you off the field, give you time to recover".

What the hell, Bond thought angrily. Damn analysts! He spent _years _working towards that 00 number, and now, just one mission in, they wanted him _benched_. All because he had the misfortune of jumping into bed with a traitorous bitch.

"My place is in the field", he said firmly. Then he added in a lower tone, "The other agents have more experience in the field, but none with regards to this particular organization. I feel I'm the best man for the job".

"I'm not disputing that", said M. "In any case, however, it will be a while before we're able to successfully trace Mr. White, and investigate him completely. Until then, I am pulling you off active duty." He opened his mouth to argue, but M cut him off, "You _will _be a part of this operation when the time comes, 007. But right now, it's time to get yourself back into shape".

Bond could hardly argue with that. "Yes, ma'am", he said.

As he was about to leave, M interrupted him.

"There _is _one other thing I had to discuss with you", said M.

"Yes?" Bond asked, without turning back.

"Vesper's funeral", M said. "It's scheduled next week."

Bond froze. He turned around slowly to look at M.

"I was wondering if-you know-", M began, looking at him concernedly.

Every instinct in Bond told him to say 'No'. It was as simple as that. _The job's done...the bitch is dead_, he'd said, and he'd meant it. It was time to move forward, not to dwell on the past.

And yet as always, he was reminded of her warmth, her temperament, above all, the time they'd spent together in Montenegro and Venice. A time when a golden ray of light had briefly dawned upon his life, only to be drowned out. Literally.

And he thought perhaps, there would be some closure. Perhaps, this would be the ideal opportunity to bury the past...

"I'll be there", he said, and left the room.


	3. Chapter 3: The Funeral

**Interlude: The Road to Solace**

**Chapter 3: The Funeral**

Vesper's funeral was rather poorly attended. Her superior, Terence Hodge was there of course, but apart from him, there were only two or three of her colleagues from the Treasury present among the mourners. While the precise cause of her death, and her involvement in a Secret Service operation, was now widely known within the ranks of the Treasury, only Hodge and a select few officials at the top were aware of her treachery. Bond wondered if these few colleagues of Vesper's would have been present had they known _what _she was...

M was present, accompanied by her secretary, Villiers, and by Bill Tanner, currently prime candidate for the post of Chief of Staff. M's bodyguard Craig Mitchell, agent 009, was standing a little way off from the mourners...he had exchanged a curt nod with Bond when they'd first arrived.

For his own part, Bond had conducted himself throughout the ceremony with a perfect demonstration of stoicism. But as he laid his eyes upon her corpse, the memories flooded his mind. He remembered their first meeting on the train. How full of life she'd been; how vigorous, how judgmental...but even then, beneath the hardness of her character, he'd perceived her hidden insecurities. If only he'd known...

He wondered now, for the first time, what he would have done had she confessed her deadly secret to him earlier. While they were in bed perhaps. Would he have covered up for her? Or would he have turned her over to M immediately? Would he have killed her _himself_?

He didn't know the answer. And on some level, that disturbed. He'd always known himself...always been in control. But for the first time, something else, _someone _else had taken control of his life, his emotions, his love...and he wasn't sure he even knew himself now.

Was he a soulless killing machine who gave 'little thought to sacrificing others in order to preserve Queen and Country' as Vesper had said? Or was he a damaged man who, in his desperation for love, had been betrayed and damaged further?

He needed to know the answers because the answers in turn would raise further questions about the near future. About his upcoming mission against Mr. White and his nebulous organization. Was it about duty? Or was it about vengeance? And if the latter, vengeance for _whom_? For _her_...or for himself?

As he saw the casket being lowered into the ground, his inner eye was consumed by visions of her last moments. Writhing in silent agony, drowning, renouncing her last chance at physical salvation...knowing that moral salvation was already beyond her reach...

Afterwards, he went to a bar and sat at the counter, fiddling with Vesper's locket, the Algerian love-knot she'd been given by her lover; the man who's abduction provoked her treachery. It was the only tangible thing he had left to remind him of her...and yet, it was also, painfully enough, a reminder of her treachery. And of the fact that she had never truly belonged to _him_...

Was that why he kept it? To remind himself that she had always been someone else'...that there was no need to take her treachery personally? He didn't know. What he _did _know was that it made far more sense to dispose of the locket...but for some reason, he was unable to bring himself to do so.

So he sat staring at the locket, drowning down one dry martini after another, until he returned to his flat, in a state of extreme inebriation, and virtually collapsed on his bed, fully dressed.

In his dream, he was on a train. The train to Montenegro. Vesper was standing before him, her smug, biting expression on her face. She was holding the briefcase and coldly, mockingly, looking at him.

"I'm the money", she said.

And he had his gun aimed at her and every instinct in him told him to shoot. But he wasn't able to. Instead he spun around and shot repeatedly at the shadows. At the nebulous, intangible forms of Mr. White and his co-conspirators...

But it was too late. They were gone...disappeared into the darkness. And when he whirled around again, so was she. All that remained was her corpse lying on the floor of the train...her red dress soaked with the waters of Venice...

And he knew, as he had always known, that he had lost this game.


	4. Chapter 4: Prep Time

**Interlude: The Road to Solace**

**Chapter 4: Prep Time**

The next several weeks were reasonably mundane. Bond spent most of his time in his office, going through intelligence reports. He also spent some time at Q Branch, the R & D sub-division of MI6, familiarising himself with the latest surveillance equipment. The service armourer, Major Boothroyd, provided him with a new Walther PPK, and he spent a few hours every other day practising at the Service firing range. Though he'd been using the newer P99 model since his promotion, he'd always preferred the PPK. It was lighter, and far more easily concealable. He also spent some time training with a Heckler & Koch UMP submachine gun, figuring he might need the added firepower at some point on his upcoming mission.

A notable highlight of this period was his meeting was his session with Sir James Moloney, the MI6 psychiatric consultant. The noted neurologist had been a personal friend of M's predecessor, and the current MI6 chief too often called upon him to evaluate her agents. Bond had had a few sessions with Moloney the previous year when he was being evaluated for promotion to 00 status, and therefore greeted the man as an old friend. Bond did find Moloney's frequent expressions of sympathy with regards to Vesper's death tiresome, though he knew the man was only doing his job and meant well.

It was shortly after his session with Moloney that Bond was summoned to M's office. She had some fresh news for him regarding the fallout of the 'Royale case'.

"Turns out Mathis is in the clear", she said. "Le Chiffre had been bluffing...sending us on a wild goose chase".

"You're sure?", Bond asked.

"Positive. Our inquisitors had worked him for over a month...they're sure he's completely clean. He's being formally released tomorrow, after the formalities have been completed", said M.

"Formalities?" asked Bond.

M sighed. "He wants to resign...highly understandable given the circumstances. We're giving him a substantial severance package, as well as additional compensation for his...incarceration. He's being resettled in Italy...we've found a villa for him overlooking Lake Tahoe".

A part of Bond was relieved. He'd always liked the middle-aged veteran agent, who'd been a great help to him during the Royale mission. But now, knowing that the man was innocent after all, did burden him with no small amount of additional guilt.

"Don't blame yourself", said M. "Under the circumstances...it was the most professional assumption to make".

"How's he taking it all?" Bond asked.

"Well naturally he was upset", M said dryly. "He seems particularly upset with you".

"I guess I owe the man an apology", Bond said, more to himself than to M.

"What's the progress on White?" he asked.

"He's proving unusually elusive...however, we have managed to narrow our search to Austria. It's only a matter of time before we get him in our sights", said M.

"It's rendition then?" Bond asked.

"Of course", said M. "You'll get him over the border into Italy...we have a safe-house in Siena. I'll be there personally at the interrogation."

"And the money?" Bond asked.

"I suppose by this point, the entire 150 million would be near-impossible to recover. However, the Treasury is content to recover their original 10 million investment in your game...I'm sure that shouldn't be much of a problem once we've seized White's assets", said M.

"You'll be interested to know that Le Chiffre's money laundering operations have continued to function unhindered even after his death", she continued.

"Looks like the organization wants to keep the show running", said Bond.

"Quiet. We're looking at the possibilities of intercepting the money flow and introducing tagged bills. It might lead us to some other agents of the organization", said M.

"But White's still our best bet", said Bond. "We need to get him out of there as quickly as possible and squeeze him dry", he added in a tone bordering on impatience.

M stared at him for a few minutes, contemplatively. Bond guessed she was on the verge of commenting on his impatience, but she seemed to change her mind and try another tack. Picking up a file lying on her desk she quickly leafed through it while addressing him, "By the way, Sir James sent me his psychiatric evaluation of you last night. According to him, you appear to be in a state of denial".

_What the hell_, Bond thought furiously. He could _shoot _people dead in cold blood...did they _really _think the fact that some woman he slept with turned out to be traitor would shatter him?

"I think I'll take a second opinion on that, ma'am", Bond replied with controlled fury.

"There's no need for you to suppress a perfectly understandable reaction to a traumatic incident", retorted M. "No matter what we trained you to be, you're not a machine. I, for one, would rather you take some time out to sort out your emotions rather than repress them and bring them into the field where they'll become a liability!"

There was another moment of silence, and then Bond said slowly, "You really don't trust me with this, do you?"

M sighed. "I trusted you, James...enough to give you that 00 number. But _you're _the one who's not being entirely honest with me here".

"Not being honest about what? I told you everything that happened. About her, about how she betrayed me..." Bond began, curtly, but M cut him off. "That's _precisely _what I mean...it's not her treason that bothers you as much as her betrayal of _you _personally. She betrayed your love...and so you find yourself unable to come to terms with the fact that you were ever in love with her in the first place! And now you're probably going off on some 'revenge mission' without even realising the fact..."

"This has _nothing _to do with vengeance", Bond snapped. "This organization, whatever it is, has people in high places. It funds terror networks across the globe. It needs to be stopped. I just want to contribute to that effort".

"But what about _Vesper_? About your relationship with her? I need to know where we stand on that. Because, as I said before, I need you to remain emotionally detached from the situation on the field. And that won't be possible if you've got...unresolved feelings", she said plainly.

Bond sat there, staring into M's eyes, all the while, thinking. It was clear he needed to give her an answer-even if he didn't really know the answer himself...

"I'd been through hell..._both _of us had", he said softly. "It was...natural, I suppose, that we developed a connection".

"Would it have lasted? The honest answer is-I don't know", Bond said firmly, with a conviction he wasn't sure he entirely felt. "All I know is...I was nearly taken for a ride like an amateur. Professionally...that revolts me. And I'm willing to learn from my mistakes."

"The way I see it...she's not important. Nor was her boyfriend. She was just a means to an end for them. She's been _removed _from the scenario...and I don't think we need to waste any time on her. _White _is the priority", he said.

Was she convinced, Bond wondered as she averted her gaze from him towards his psychiatric report. Hell, was _he _convinced about what he'd said?

Finally, M seemed to make up her mind. "We'll be moving by next week, if all goes well. The formal briefings will begin the day after tomorrow. That will be all, 007", he said in her usual officious tone.

"Thank you, M", Bond said with the hint of a smile, as he marched out of the room.

Whatever else, she'd given him the chance to do his duty, and Bond felt he had to be grateful for that.

He then proceeded to the elevator and down to the motor pool, where he'd been asked to take a look at his new Aston Martin DBS...


	5. Epilogue

**Interlude: The Road to Solace**

**Epilogue**

_Lake Como, Italy_

The briefings, the planning, the training all slowly and agonizing crawled by, but finally, James Bond was back in the field, doing what he did best...stalking his prey.

Suavely dressed in a Tom Ford suit, Walther PPK securely held in his shoulder holster, Heckler and Koch sub-machine gun in one hand and cellphone in the other, agent 007 was ready...to begin war.

He could hear the gates electronically swing open and the car drive into the compound of Mr. White's villa. He heard the door of the car open and the sound of a man stepping out...

Timing was everything.

_Wait for it_, he told himself. _Wait...wait...wait...NOW!_

He dialled White's number on his cellphone...the number Vesper had left behind for him nearly two months ago.

His quarry answered the phone.

"Mr. White", he said coldly. "We need to _talk_".

"Who is this?" White asked, perplexed.

Sensing his target's anxiety, his confusion, Bond knew that this was the perfect psychological moment to strike. Carefully aiming his gun at White's ankle, he skilfully squeezed off a silenced shot.

White let out a sharp cry of agony as he crumbled to the floor...crawling on the ground in pain, inch by inch, towards the steps of his villa.

_Here's my cue_, Bond thought as he stepped out from behind the banisters where he'd been concealed and walked down the steps; his every muscle taut, command and assurance evident in his every movement...

Mr. White looked up at him. And Bond in turn stared hard at the face of the man who'd been party to Vesper's betrayal...of the government, of the country, and of _him_.

But he tried his best not to reflect on all that. M was right...emotions had no place in the field.

"The name's Bond", he replied brusquely. "James Bond".

He said the words without the slightest hesitation, without the slightest hint of self-doubt. Hearing himself, his name said out loud, filled Bond with a strange sense of triumph. No more was there any insecurity or soul-searching. For the first time since Venice, he _knew _exactly who he was and what he had to do.

And in that realisation alone, he reasoned, lay the road to solace...

**A/N: **The story continues in the 22nd Bond film, _Quantum of Solace_!


End file.
